


Oil and Glitter Don't Mix

by grimmlin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Meetings, Glitter, Grumpy Dean Winchester, Helpful Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Meet-Cute, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Swearing, so much glitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmlin/pseuds/grimmlin
Summary: One thing Dean will not tolerate of his employees is harassing people while wearing the company logo. A second thing Dean will not tolerate is that same employee calling him all the foul names in the book when Dean fires him.That was Dean's weekend.Now, it's Monday and he's ready to leave all that behind him. Unfortunately, he has one more surprise coming. Well, two if you count the handsome blue-eyed stranger who walks through his door.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 151





	Oil and Glitter Don't Mix

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I wrote in my plot book and then forgot about for months. I don't remember how or why this got into my head and into my journal, but when I saw it languishing there a few days ago I just had to bring this fun little tidbit to life.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean screams, voice cracking and going hoarse as he quickly covers his eyes with his arms. Around him swirls a cloud, a literal cloud, of sparkling micro particles borne straight from the depths of hell.

The garage is silent apart from and Dean’s high-pitched whimper accompanied by the gentle whir of the motor currently flinging the tiny pieces of shining plastic.

Finally, the whirring stops and Dean slowly lowers his arms, his whimper turning into a full out whine when he takes in the damage.

Every surface of his garage within a ten-foot radius is coated, glittering under the bright overhead lights like some sort of demented winter wonderland. Some pieces are bigger than others, more like sequins, but most of the mess seems to be the ultra-fine variety that sticks to skin like glue and is harder than herpes to get rid of.

Dean simply struggles to breathe as he presses the heels of his palms against his brow. His heart hammers and rage simmers low in his gut.

As if having to hear about Cole’s outburst (still wearing his garage coveralls) at the Pride Parade from Charlie wasn’t bad enough, the names the asshole had called Dean after he brought him in yesterday just to fire him still ring fresh in his ears.

This obnoxious mess only adds to unease swirling in his gut.

Dean is glad he threw Cole out on his ass.

Almost literally.

But the damage is done, firing the homophobic asshole wasn’t enough to lessen the ire from the local gay community.

The community he would be part of if he wasn’t such a chicken shit. If this isn’t rejection, Dean doesn’t know what is.

He feels his eyes start to burn as he glares at the innocuous brown box at the center of this disaster.

“God Fucking DAMMIT!” Dean yells as he delivers a vicious kick to the whirling device inside the box before sucking in a deep breath and forcing himself to take a closer look at his garage. His tool chest that he had rolled over just before opening the box is covered, the excess glitter shifting like dust each time the faint breeze of the overhead fan catches it.

The floor is hopeless, the sand like pink substance is likely glued down by the oil staining the concrete floor.

He keeps his garage as clean as he can, but it’s still a garage. Various engine-related fluids come part and parcel to working on cars.

This is going to take _days_ to clean up enough to bring and cars in.

This is the worst Monday in the history of Mondays.

He wishes he could bring Cole in just to fire him again.

The door to the front office creaks open and timid looking face peers through, drawing Dean’s attention like a buzzard to roadkill.

For a moment, Dean hopes it’s Cole so he can have someone to scream at.

“I’m sorry, is this a bad time? I can go somewhere else…” The man’s dark hair is tousled chaotically and the sweater that Dean can barely glimpse is possibly the most garish representation of a rainbow Dean has ever seen, but what really catches Dean’s attention is the man’s voice.

Deep and rough, far rougher than would sound healthy but somehow it works on him.

Dean shakes his head, trying to remember to breathe through the outrage coursing through his veins. Judging by his sweater, the man is gay, or at least on the LBGTQ-A, however many letters have been added now, spectrum.

Dean knows he shouldn’t make assumptions, especially regarding sexuality, but he is not in the mood to give his higher thought processes a chance to rule his actions.

Dean has no doubt this glitter fiasco is his punishment for Cole’s words over the weekend, and truthfully, Dean can’t even blame whoever sent him this mess for being angry but that does little to quell the need to lash out.

“I,” Dean starts to say, frustration tinging his tone before he trails off and finds himself captured by the endless blue of the stranger’s eyes. He swallows hard and tries again. “What can I help you with?”

The man smirks and edges a little further through the door since Dean is definitely not moving from the scene of the crime. He is _not_ tracking glitter through his entire garage. It’s bad enough that his oil change bay is now wallpapered with the stuff.

“My car started making a rattling sound this morning, I was hoping I could have it looked at? But it looks like you have enough on your hands…” The man says nervously, gaze still darting between Dean and the offending box.

Dean takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. “Yeah, I can explain.” He waves absently at the mess surrounding him. “Well, actually, not really. One of my employees, well _former_ employees decided to harass some folks at the parade last weekend. I fired him as soon as I found out, but it seems this is my punishment for hiring the asshole, to begin with.”

The man nods and chews his lip. “But you don’t agree with what he said?”

Dean winces but shakes his head vehemently. “Hell no, dude. I’m Bi myself. I ain’t gonna put up with working with someone who thinks like that. Singer Salvage and Repair does not condone or endorse homophobic bullshit.” Dean isn’t sure what convinces him to come out so easily to a perfect stranger. Maybe it’s the man’s ill-fitting, probably hand-knitted, rainbow sweater, or the frustration that is still making Dean’s eyes burn, or maybe it’s the way this man is staring like he can see straight through to Dean’s soul.

Whatever it is, has the words tumbling from Dean’s lips before he knows they’re about to fall out.

The stranger looks taken aback but a small smile makes the corners of his mouth creep up.

If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say the man looks pleasantly surprised.

Then he winces, his features contorting into something that promises news Dean isn’t going to enjoy and those blue eyes look at him sheepishly. “I have a confession to make.”

Dean feels his brows arching before he can stop them. “Oh?” This ought to be great. Fantastic even. He’s going to be sorely disappointed if this attractive stranger was behind this fiendish prank that is going to cost him a week’s worth of business while he tries to clean his garage.

The worst part is, he knows it’s futile.

The glitter is going to be a permanent fixture now. He’ll be finding bits in his hair for years, his customers will find it stuck to their floormats and there is nothing he can do.

Not really.

“My brother did this.” He gestures to the mess around them. “I was, well, I was very drunk and wishing revenge on the man who called me and friends names… Gabriel can be quite the prankster,” the man rambles, slowly stepping toward Dean with his hands held out apologetically. “I was going to try to intercept, that,” he points at the box, “but I was too late.” He cringes and Dean feels his anger flash.

“Your brother did this?” Dean questions, his voice wooden. He’s torn between apologizing for Cole’s actions and screaming his outrage about the craft herpes infection he’s been saddled with.

The man nods and wrings his hands. “Let me help clean up? It’s the least I can do…”

Dean huffs and marches across the garage to fetch a broom, his footfalls muted by the layer of glitter coating the floor. “Damn right it is,” he grumbles as he shoves the broom into the man’s hands.

If he notices the broom comes away from him a little more sparkly, well, Dean isn’t going to mention it.

“My name is Castiel, by the way, I’m really sorry about this Mr. Singer,” Castiel rambles as he starts sweeping at the edge of the mess.

“Winchester. Dean Winchester. Bobby Singer is my uncle,” Dean can’t help but say as he finds a mostly clean rag and attempts to wipe the glitter from his face. “I bought the place off him five years ago.”

“Mr. Winchester, then.” Cas smiles softly as he sweeps.

Dean huffs and shakes his head. “Call me Dean,” he says, watching curiously as Cas’ cheeks flush slightly.

“Well, Dean, I’m sorry about all this. I didn’t think Gabriel would actually do anything,” Cas says, meeting Dean’s gaze with a hesitant smile. “Although I should have known better.” His smile turns to a frown and he shakes his head sadly.

Dean looks away from the man’s kicked puppy expression and tries not to take pity on the man. He will not forgive him so easily. “Gabriel is your brother?” Dean asks, already considering revenge. Cas nods. “Where in hell did he get this much glitter so quickly? This shit isn’t normal,” Dean grumbles, shaking his head in disbelief.

Cas shrugs as he sweeps, his gaze dropping to the floor as the broom snags in something sticky. The glitter is clumping together in shimmering chunks that have Dean’s stomach sinking. “He owns the strip club down on Main…”

Dean's eyes widen and he blinks at Cas. “Casa Erotica?” He remembers the ads on TV. On TV! A skeezy looking dude with slicked-back hair and a waiter’s tray in hand knocking on a hotel door.

Eww. Just. Ew.

Cas nods with a wince. “That’s the one.”

“Dude.” Dean gapes. 

Cas nods again. “I _know._ ”

Something in the other man’s tone has Dean barking a laugh. The long-suffering sigh of a younger brother that Dean has heard so many times from his own little brother.

The dark, ugly cloud hanging over him bears down before fracturing and Dean laughs, nearly sputtering. His outrage bubbling out of him in the form of manic laughter that soon has Cas clutching his broom for support as he leans over, eyes crinkling in the corners as he laughs through the most adorable gummy grin Dean has ever seen.

“I have that kielbasa you ordered,” Dean says in his best imitation of the man from the TV, purposely giving Cas the most ridiculous seductive eyes that he can muster if only to hear that deep and beautiful laughter continue.

Cas snorts and wipes away a tear from the corner of his eye as he grins at Dean. “You sound just like him,” he says through continued laughter.

Damn, it feels good to laugh.

And why shouldn’t he? This entire situation is ridiculous and he thinks he finally understands what someone means when they say if they don’t laugh they’re gonna cry. Dean’s heart hurts, his stomach aches, but he can’t stop the erratic giggles threatening to burst free. “You got a little something.” Dean gestures to Cas’ cheek, pointing at the streak of glitter now stuck to his tan skin.

Dean knows he isn’t faring any better. In fact, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he’s sparkling like one of the vampires from those books that shall not be named, but right now that streak of glitter on Cas cheek is the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

Cas tries to wipe the shimmer away but he only adds to the mess and Dean laughs harder when his brows knit together in frustration, the little crease forming between them is adorable and Dean almost finds himself glad that this Gabriel person decided to vandalize his business.

Finally, Cas shrugs and scans the open expanse of the garage. “This is going to take a long time to clean, isn’t it?”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, not gonna be able to get any cars in here until I can guarantee I won’t be getting glitter everywhere.”

“But that might take days!” Cas turns to him with wide eyes. “Dean, I can’t,” Cas growls, honest to god growls and his gaze turns dark. “I’m going to _kill_ Gabriel for this.”

Dean rears back and shakes his head. “Hey, man, it’s alright.” Except it isn’t. It really isn’t, but he isn’t going to take it out on Cas. It isn’t his fault his big brother as much of a douche nozzle as Cole.

Cas survey the damage, eyes narrowing as he scans one glittered surface after another before he shakes his head sadly.

“Hey, I get it if you can’t stay. I’m sure you have better things to do,” Dean excuses him with a wave of his hand. Cas has got to be regretting his offer to help and Dean doesn’t want him here if he doesn’t want to be here.

Cas frowns and shakes his head. “No. I’m helping,” he says before unceremoniously stripping his sweater over his head.

Dean gapes, his mind sputtering to a halt when he catches a glimpse of Cas’ trim waist and the dimples of his back just above the waist of his jeans. His mouth is dry as he tries to form words, the fleeting vision of black wingtips at the base of Cas’ back is too enticing to ignore.

“Do you have somewhere I can put this?” Cas questions, tilting his head as he tugs his t-shirt down with one hand. “Dean?”

Dean shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a desk over in the corner. It should be out of the blast zone.”

He watches Cas go, the way the shirt clings to his broad shoulders and barely moves around his trim but thick waist as he walks. The bulky sweater was hiding just how built Cas is and Dean can’t but appreciate the firm planes of muscle now nearly on display.

Dean quickly looks away when Cas turns around but he catches the man’s smirk out of the corner of his eye. Dammit.

Dean starts wiping the flat surfaces, knocking as much glitter to the floor as he can before he drags the old canister vacuum out of storage. He had nearly thrown the decrepit thing away but he’s glad now that Bobby’s frugality stayed his hand.

He won’t have to bedazzle his new, better, vacuum to clean this mess up.

Cas is scooping as much glitter into a dustpan as he can, but so much sticks to the floor that the darkened concrete can barely be seen underneath.

Dean tries not to whimper when Cas leans down and his snug t-shirt rides up just enough to reveal those wingtips against a small strip of tanned skin.

Dean finds his attention fixated, and when Cas straightens and turns to him with a wide smile and bright eyes, Dean feels his frustration evaporate.

He would put up with any amount of glitter if he could be graced with the kind of smile that could convince the sun to shine on a rainy day.

They spend the next hours lost in their tasks and simple chit chat.

Dean learns that Cas has three big brothers, one of which is estranged, and the other two are as close to polar opposites as can be.

Gabriel is a porn director turned strip club owner.

Michael is a Colonel in the U.S Army.

Cas, refusing to follow in anyone’s footsteps, decided to become an accountant.

Dean barely believes him when he says that he wears a suit and tie to work every day until Cas shows him a picture.

The bulky tan trench coat does the man zero favors, but Dean laughs when Cas gives him the same squinty glare he’s wearing in the photograph.

Apparently, Gabriel had said something not very nice that Cas refuses to repeat right before taking the picture.

Cas also explains that he works for himself, owning his small firm, so he gives himself Mondays off.

Dean is a little bit envious of that.

He’ll be putting in extra time until he can find someone to replace Cole.

And in their small town, that might take a while.

Dean tells him about Sam, Bobby, and Ellen, but he carefully doesn’t talk about his drunk of a father who disappeared years ago.

As far as Dean is concerned, Bobby is his Dad and he tells Cas as much.

By the time Dean’s stomach is grumbling for lunch, they’ve scrubbed the shelves and Dean has cleaned out his toolbox. The floor still needs help but Dean’s had enough for the day. He has some work in the scrapyard he can occupy himself with to take a break from the glitter.

“I’m gonna call it a morning,” Dean says as he stretches his arms overhead.

Cas looks up at his with surprise in his eyes. “But there’s still so much…”

Dean shrugs. “It’ll keep. If I keep looking at all this sparkly shit, I think my eyes are gonna cross.”

“Dean, I don’t want this to hurt your business,” Cas says, brows already scrunching in way that Dean would love to wipe away.

Cas is hot, funny, kind, and just a little bit sweet.

Not that he’d see anything in a half-broken down mechanic, but Dean can’t help the roguish smile that creeps across his face. “I got this, Cas. Besides, spending the morning with you made all this mess almost worth it.”

Cas arches a brow and tilts his head. “Almost?”

Dean chuckles and drops his gaze, tilting his chin down enough to look at his feet. “Well, this is gonna take a long time to clean up.”

Cas steps forward with a smirk that promises trouble and makes Dean’s stomach swoop. He steps into Dean’s space, putting them chest to chest and Dean searches those bottomless blue eyes as his pulse quickens.

“You got a little something…” Cas gestures to his brow before shaking his head and reaching out to brush the glitter off Dean’s forehead. Cas’ cheeks flush and he steps back as he clears his throat. “So, uh, figuratively speaking, if a single gay man were to ask you to join him for dinner, would you consider saying yes?”

Dean purses his lips to keep from smiling too wide. “You askin me out, Cas?”

Cas rolls his eyes and bites at his lip nervously.

“Yes, Cas. If that single gay man is you, asking me out to dinner, then the figurative answer is yes.” Dean smiles and Castiel grins.

“Tonight sound okay?” Cas asks, finally meeting Dean’s eyes.

Dean gently takes Cas’ hand in his, if only to stop the way he’s anxiously wringing his fingers. He rubs his thumb in gentle circles over the back of Cas’ hand and his heart warms at the fact that Cas isn’t pulling away. “Around seven? I gotta put in a few more hours, lots to do in the scrapyard, then it might take a little longer than usual to shower,” Dean says, gesturing to his shimmering coveralls.

“Seven sounds fine. Are you familiar with Cuginos?” Cas asks, leaning ever so slightly closer.

Dean nods with a soft smile. “I love that place, they’ve got the best pizza.”

Cas grins. “I’ll meet you there?”

Dean nods. “Promise?”

Cas barks a laugh and leans in to place a gentle kiss on Dean’s cheek. “Promise.”

Dean chuckles when Cas pulls back and licks his lips.

Cas’ eyes go wide and he sputters. “Oh god,” he gasps and Dean’s chuckle turns into a full-on belly laugh when Cas’ expression turns scandalized and he rubs at his now shimmering lips furiously.

“Not funny,” Cas gripes, giving Dean a weak but amused glare.

“You’re right. Not funny.” Dean forces his mouth into a flat line and swallows down his laughter for all of three seconds before it sputters free. “It’s hilarious.”

“I’m regretting asking you out.” Cas’ eyes narrow but the corners of his lips quirk upwards.

Dean bites his lip, still grinning. “See you at seven?”

Cas rolls his eyes and huffs. Dean thinks he couldn’t be any more adorable. “See you at seven,” Cas says with a dip of his head as he collects his sweater. “And don’t be late!”

Dean watches the door close and hide Cas from his view and he can’t help the excited flutters in his stomach.

He’s been glitter bombed, and he has a date with the most captivating man he’s ever met.

Pretty darn awesome as far as Mondays go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you and much love for reading. If you're feeling so inclined, I would love to hear what you think. 
> 
> If you're interested in hearing more from me and getting updates about my fics, follow me on twitter, @grimmlin_fic


End file.
